


I Stand in the Sun and Weep

by Elvesliketrees



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gen, Introspection, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1845964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dwarves sit in their gold and listen to the screams trickle into the mountain. Thorin realizes that Bard was right in all that he said, though they didn't know it at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Stand in the Sun and Weep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is officially my very first work of fan fiction YAY!! Please read and enjoy! Warnings for blood and gore from the battle, death, and possible character death. The end will be open, so you can pick whether the character lives or not. All of this belongs to Tolkien's books and Peter Jackson's films.

          In the early morning hours, it started. When the first roars of the soldiers were heard; the high lilting cries of the elves, the deep rumbles of the dwarves, and the defiant yells of the men, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, sat in his gold with the rest of his followers. When the roars turned to screams, still they sat. The Company looked lost and agitated. Balin sat with a book he was not reading and glared at Thorin. Dwalin checked his weapons continuously as if to prepare for battle, and Thorin wondered why this was. Kili and Fili clung to one another, as they always had when things turned badly. Gloin kept looking from the window in the chamber, to his king, to the window once more. Oin was checking and rechecking his supplies, as if he would be dealing with wounded soon. Dori was grinding his jaw, as if he wanted to say something, but was too polite to do so. After all, Thorin was King Under the Mountain. Ori clung to Dori, his impromptu speech in Bag End long-forgotten under memories of death, and the reality of it now. Nori was trying to push knives into Ori's hands, and for once Dori was not trying to stop him. Nori kept saying that he would need them, and Thorin wondered what in Mahal's name the boy would need knives for anytime soon. Bifur was snarling and grasping his spear with white-knuckled hands, the memories of battles long-past roaring to the front of his mind. Bofur sat still and solemn, for once, with one hand on Bifur's shoulder to keep him grounded. He'd asked Bombur as to whether he should take his hat off, and Thorin wondered what madness had taken the miner, for why should he need to do so? Bombur kept glancing at the door. Thorin asked him if he wanted food, and that there may be some in his pack if he would only sit still and not disturb anyone. Bofur blanched at this, and Ori stared at him until Nori gave him a reminder disguised as a playful punch. And Thorin? The King Under the Mountain sat and counted his gold as he listened to the screams. And then, a voice drifted  in on the wind. At first, it was only a whisper in Thorin's mind as he listened and counted. Then, the voice began to form words which he had forgotten, words which he had heard in Laketown.

_The lord of silver fountains,_

_The king of carven stone,_

_The king beneath the mountain,_

_Shall come into his own,_

_And the bells shall ring in gladness at the mountain king's return,_

_But all shall fail in sadness a_ _nd the lake will shine and burn._

    

          "No," Thorin whispered hoarsely. The company turned towards him as one, grim looks on their faces. His illusion, he saw that now, cracked and shattered into a tiny million pieces. The company stood up and grasped weapons.

          "Are you with us lad?" Balin asked quietly. Thorin gasped, trying to bring air into his uncooperative lungs. He nodded, and the grim company sighed. 

          "It is true," Thorin whispered. The company looked at one another skeptically.  Kili looked to his uncle, and Thorin saw a scared dwarfling once more.

          "Uncle, what shall we do?" he whispered.

          "Go down to the armory and outfit yourselves," Thorin commanded.

          "And then?" Dwalin asked.

          "We fight," Thorin whispered. They rushed to the armory and outfitted themselves. Dori checked over himself and his brothers, Dwalin made sure that everyone was well-armed. Gloin made sure that Oin would stay with the healers, not expressing his relief that his brother would not be in the conflict. Bifur fretted over his cousins while Thorin checked on Fili and Kili. Finally, Thorin led them to the gate. He motioned to Dori and Dwalin, who grasped the ropes at the gate on either side. He took a horn from Kili and nodded towards Dwalin and Dori. They heaved, and the gate collapsed. They rushed out into the sun, and there they saw the armies. Thranduil was like the sun, rallying his men and cutting down any enemy in his cold light. There was Bard and his men, like the stone of the earth. They stood, they did not retreat or cry, they stood and endured. They stood against the tidal wave of foes coming towards them, and it broke on them like water on the side of a cliff. There were the dwarves, led by Dain, like the ocean itself. They were fierce and tempestuous, they bore down on the enemy and ripped through it in their wildness and anger. Thorin blew a blast on the horn. "To me, to me free peoples of Middle Earth!!!" he thundered. He ran forward, the company behind him. They cut through foes and drove right into the middle of the orc army, allies gathering behind them. Then, Thorin heard the voice once more.

_The lord of silver fountains,_

          There was no silver in the mountain anymore. Erebor was a shell of what it once was. There was no honor or glory there anymore. Her honor would be restored once her people walked her halls once more, free and safe. He looked at Balin and Dwalin, who stood at his right. Balin was fighting with a determined, yet resigned look. Dwalin had the calm look of one who was coming back to something familiar. These two remembered. They saw what he could be, a lord of much wealth and power. They looked back, and saw what might have been if Smaug had not come. And so, they had risked life and limb to coat the fountains in silver once more. Thorin then realized that it was not the silver of the fountains that mattered, but that his people would be able to look on it everyday...in their home.

_The king of carven stone,_

          Oh yes, they had stone, but they had none to work it. Why would he think that the stone of these halls was far more important than the lives of his people. He looked to Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, who fought to his left. Bifur was fighting like one crazed, hacking through any enemy that came near. Here, he could protect his cousins, like they had protected him for so many years. Bofur and Bombur stood behind their cousin. Bofur had his traditional grin with an askew hat and braids that were falling out. Bombur looked terrified, and he winced every time an ally took a blow.   Dwarves like these three were those that needed Thorin most. These were the dwarves that experienced enough hardness in life, that worked near to death to feed themselves. They needed a good, strong king to protect their lives, and protect their home. Thorin would be that king, and Thorin would be as strong as the stone beneath the earth.

 

_The king beneath the mountain,_

           The dwarves needed a mountain, they needed to be safe. It was not for wealth that Erebor must not be taken, but for the what it represented to his people. Dori, Nori, and Ori stood behind him. Dori stood in front of his two brothers. He used his immense strength to dispatch the enemy, and he grimaced every time blood spattered his clothes, they would take forever to clean. Nori killed silently, using his knives to their utmost. He did not cry or yell, he just cut. He did with a detached indifference that spoke of years of practice. The orcs were nothing, his family and friends were everything. Ori held Thorin's banner high, and protected it fiercely with a look of terrified determination on his face. Gloin fought behind them with a fire as unruly and bright as the hair he sported. This is why he wanted Erebor, a home for his people. A home where Ori might be a scribe in a great library, where Nori would not be forced to steal, where Dori might be able to make a living as a weaver and not a laborer, and where Gloin could raise his family in peace.

_And the bells shall ring in gladness at the mountain king's return,_

          The orcs retreated from their onslaught. Thorin hefted his sword high and yelled a battle cry. They charged the enemy. Fili and Kili were in front of him now, fighting fiercely. Thorin was proud of them, his sister-sons, his heirs, it was for them he fought. He returned to the mountain so that they might have stability, and Fili would have a crown, and Kili would be a prince. The armies crashed against the orcs.

_But all shall fail in sadness a_ _nd the lake will shine and burn._

          The orcs seemed to be giving back, and Thorin was glad. They would win the day! But joy came too soon, and they were soon surrounded. And then, Azog came striding over the cliff. He grinned at Thorin, and hefted his mace in challenge. Thorin gripped Deathless (he had lost Orcrist to Thranduil) firmly and walked towards Azog. His men were fighting madly, and had the orc to himself. He stood in the sun, his home was returned to him, and his people could be safe once more. He stood in the sun, and he wept for the lives of those lost and the fact that they may yet again loose their home. Thorin stood in the sun, and he wept. He wept so hard, that he failed to notice the orcs being killed by an invisible foe. Mace crashed upon sword with the ring and scrape of metal. On the sidelines, Oin waited hopelessly.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Please comment with suggestions and other observations. Also, how do you think this ends? Will Thorin live to apologize to Bilbo, or are we going to go with the Tolkien ending? Again, feel free to write anything that comes to mind, even prompts that you guys would like to see. Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed it:)


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